Sail
by RaeEssie
Summary: After being at the wrong place at the wrong time, Sam finds himself at the mercy of Mercedes Jones. But along with fear came a strong attraction to the woman who held his fate in her hands.  A kidnapping story
1. Instincts

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters, sadly. Or Glee.

**Warning:** This story involves talks of kidnapping, murder and insanity, amongst other things.

**Notes: **This was a requested fanfic by iloveyouless. This story will most likely delve into the psychology behind the characters' actions. The characters are quite ooc for now but when we start digging into their lives you'll start to recognize some of their canon personality traits.

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><p><strong>Instincts<strong>

"_God forgive me if I do wrong in following with _

_ardor the strongest instincts of my nature"._

-Julia Ward Howe-

.

The last thing Sam Evans saw was the faint outline of a mohawked man before he lost consciousness. Even as he stirred, three hours later, he couldn't quite remember what had happened for him to merit the attack. He had been taking a midnight stroll in town after an argument with his soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend when a noise had caught his attention. It was coming from a dark alley. He'd only glanced in that direction before he felt the sharp blow to his head.

Sam opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the light that filled the room. His head hurt. So much. It wasn't long before he realized he was tied down to a chair and his mouth was covered in tape. He scanned the room, taking in his surroundings. It was small, with no windows. Beside him was a bed, the kind you found in psychiatric wards. The walls were a pale pink and bare of decorations. There was even a small bedside table beside the bed. For a moment he wondered if this was a sick joke or worse, his girlfriend's revenge. She had a mean streak and lord knows she was capable of playing dirty. They had never been a serious couple, seeing as Sam could never have imagined himself walking down the aisle with her. Not because she was slightly crazy, no, that never really bothered him. He figured if he really loved someone, he'd work around their flaws. There lay the problem. He never loved Quinn. He had admired her beauty, her intelligence and her determination but he had never loved her. Which, he mused, she should not have been upset about because she had never loved him either. They barely tolerated each other. When they were upset enough to get into an argument, she would seek solace in one of his best-friend's bed. He knew it. What he also knew was that she loved him. Sam had asked himself a million times why she chose to stay with the man who made her unhappy as opposed to the man who had her heart. He knew his reasons for staying; habit. Toss that in with the fact that he sucked at ending relationships and he was a coward. Even in the worst times, he had stayed faithful, though she hadn't. But no matter how unhappy they had been together, Sam could not help but feel pity for the woman who shared his home. Unless, of course, she was the reason behind this bullshit. Then, he'd have her arrested and her reputation destroyed.

A few minutes later, a woman opened the bedroom door and walked in, followed by a broad-shouldered man sporting mohawk. Sam groaned, recognizing his attacker. His head couldn't take any more pain. It already hurt too much. The woman was short and curvy. Her skin was dark and flawless. She would have looked very pretty and sweet, if her dark eyes hadn't been so dead. Instead, he could have easily compared her to a dark ice queen; beautiful, unattainable and cold, oozing power and pride. Sam had never felt so insignificant and she hadn't spoken yet. She wore a dark blue dress that was way to fancy in contrast to the room. The man behind her, however, was dressed in casual, dirty clothes.

"This is ridiculous." said the woman, staring at Sam. On her face was an expression of disgust. "What the hell am I supposed to do with him, Puck?" she turned to the man and crossed her arms.

"I don't know!" answered Puck, running a nervous hand through his hair. "We need to make him forget! Obliviate!"

"We aren't British, Puck!" she yelled. "And we sure as hell aren't wizards. Forget about Hogwarts and be serious. What are we supposed to do with this?"

"I don't know why we can't just kill him, 'Cedes." said a Latina, walking into the room. She to was dressed fancy; a red dress that clung to her body. Sam noticed she wore diamonds on her ears, around her neck and on her wrists. "I'm sure Apollo could make good use of him."

The woman known as 'Cedes glared at her. "He's on a diet. You know this, Santana." Sam paled at the mention of a diet. Did they really want to feed him to something or someone? "Besides, this should have never happened in the first place."

"Look, what's the big deal? We get rid of people all the time." Santana rolled her eyes.

"Not like this Santana. We have rules."

"Rules, shmules. Why can't we spice things up a bit? Change our tune? Look at him. He's begging to to let us have our fun." Santana licked her lips as she looked him over. Her eyes were filled with malice and what Sam recognized as hunger.

"Tana, no." said 'Cedes firmly. "The only reason we got this far is because we've been careful. That," she pointed Sam. "is not careful. Puck, you're a mess. Go, relax somewhere. I'll deal with this."

Puck nodded. "I'm sorry, I was careless."

"Noah," 'Cedes softened. "It was a mistake. One we were bound to make at some point. Let's just consider this a lesson learned, okay?"

"Yeah." he nodded again, though he looked anything but convinced.

"Oh, please. Stop babying him." Santana rolled her eyes. "Get your shit together, Puck. I need my bad-ass back. You messed up. Get over it. 'Retha, here'll fix it for us. Now, If you'll excuse me, I have company waiting in my bedroom." She gave Sam a wink before pulling Puck out of the room.

Once they were alone, Mercedes sat on the large sofa in front of him and sighed. She seemed normal enough, except Sam knew she wasn't. No normal person would kidnap someone and talk about killing them or feeding them to something. It was wrong. But she was the one who frightened him the less out of the trio. This wasn't Quinn's doing, of that her was now certain.

"My brother's pretty shaken. We don't usually make mistakes." she started slowly. "and my sister, well let's just say she would love to paint the walls with your blood."

Sam paled. What on earth had he done to deserve this shit? He promised himself that if he ever got out of there alive, he'd run the hell away from this town and never look back.

"As for myself..." she smiled. "I'm not sure what to do with you. One option would be to kill you right now, but who knows when you may come in handy? Have you ever heard the saying curiosity _'killed the cat'_?"

Sam nodded. At least while she was talking, he was safe.

"Next time you hear a scream in a dark alley, or the sound of a gunshot- leave. Run and never look back. Well, that's if you ever get out of here." she added as an after thought. "I really hate witnesses. They make everything so complicated."

Please don't kill me, thought Sam desperately. He still had no idea why he was there. What had he witnessed? He couldn't even remember. There was no use telling her that. Not only was his mouth taped shut, but she would never believe him.

"It must be very uncomfortable to be tied to that old chair," She smiled, though her eyes were dark and void of emotions. "I'll untie you. Don't do anything stupid or your life ends now. Are we clear?"

Sam nodded quickly. He wanted nothing more than to stand and stretch his legs. He wasn't even going to try to run, the thought had never crossed his mind. This woman and what she referred to as her siblings were insane. If he wanted to get out of there alive, he'd have to be smart and calculating. She moved to him and cut the ropes with a small dagger and ripped the tape off his mouth. It took everything he had not to swear in agony.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she asked, amused.

"You have no idea," he mumbled. Sam took a deep breath. "Where am I?"

She cocked her head to the side, considering him. He was afraid he had asked the wrong question but she smiled. "You're in Marshall House, sweetie."

Sam felt the blood drain from his face. Marshall House was situated just outside Lima. It was a big house, not quite a mansion but close. It must have once been quite beautiful, nestled in the trees, with it's Greek revival architecture. But ever since tragedy had struck the household in 1895, it had been empty. For as long as Sam could remember, everyone had thought it haunted. It was just one of those place people knew about, but never spoke of. The few that did often called it the 'hellmouth'. Though he couldn't understand how they could be in that house if everything was renovated and said as much. When you drove past Marshall House, or stood at the gate, it didn't look pleasant. It looked unkempt, with it's wild gardens and dirty windows. No one would ever assume someone lived in it, and yet there was 'Cedes, saying that's exactly where they were. It terrified him.

"The house scares you." she said, noticing his fear. "It shouldn't."

"This place is haunted."

"This place is my home." she corrected. "You'd be surprised how long this place has been occupied. We've used everyone's fear to our advantage. My siblings and I are at peace here."

"But people come here and never get out alive." Sam willed himself to calm down. He was a grown man, he shouldn't be afraid of a house or ghosts.

"Very true." 'Cedes smiled again. "It's funny how irrational people can be when they're afraid. I wonder, what makes more sense? A house killing people or people killing people? There's enough evil in the world without making up monsters, Samuel."

The way she said his name sent shivers down his spine. How did she know his name? "What are you going to do with me? Aren't you scared I could call someone and tell them where I am?" But who would he call? Artie? Quinn? Mike? His parents?

She laughed, a beautiful sound, yet it did nothing to calm him. "You'd be dead before you even tried. Besides, who would believe you? Would anyone be crazy enough to set foot on this property? Think about it, Sam. Years and years of fear pushed aside for... you? I don't think so."

She had a point. No one would believe him.

"As for dealing with you," she continued. "I'm going to let you live. For now. I'm certain I can put you to use." He wanted to scream with joy, to kiss her feet, to praise her. She might be insane, but she was the one keeping him alive.

"But listen to me clearly. There won't be any warnings." her voice was cold. "You put one toe out of line and I will bathe in your blood. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." Sam knew she was serious. There were no emotions in her eyes, just flat out conviction. She gave him a slight nod before turning. "Hey lady," She paused at the door. "Do you have a name?"

"Mercedes. You'd best get your sleep." She said, after a moment's hesitation, exited the room leaving him alone with his thoughts and fear. He didn't need to check the door to know she had locked him in the room. He was in hell and he needed out. Soon.

**SMSMSMSMS**

"He's cute." said Mercedes entering the kitchen. Puck sat on a stool at the counter and Santana was making herself tea. "You could have done worse." At least if they were keeping a hostage or whatever you called the man Puck had kidnapped, he was easy on the eyes.

"Except it was an accident, 'Cedes." Puck heaved a heavy sigh. "So, you're keeping him?"

"She'll make him her pet," said Santana, wiggling her brows. "Maybe her slave?"

"Well, if we're adding this to our long list of crimes, I want a slave to. A chick, though." Puck crossed his arms and stared at Mercedes intently. Mercedes rolled her eyes and sat on the stool next to him.

"No one is getting any slaves. That's wrong." How could she explain that despite her crimes slavery was one thing she wanted no part in. There was a big difference between using people as entertainment and using them as slaves, wasn't there? She couldn't be sure anymore. All she knew was that the word put her off. If anyone was going to work for her, they'd be paid a reasonable wage.

"And murder isn't?" scoffed Santana. "Puh-lease, Mercedes, since when have you been concerned with what's right or wrong? You're as twisted as I am."

"You're the reckless one, Tana. Not me."

"That's true." agreed Puck.

"We don't keep slaves, okay?" her voice was final. "I thought if we kept him long enough in isolation, we could brainwash the memory away from him, or something. I don't know. I'm doing my best. This was never supposed to happen."

Santana nodded. "Fair enough. Have you locked him in the center room?"

"Yeah, he'll stay there for now."

"'Cedes, why can't we just pay him to shut up? We have the money." asked Puck.

Mercedes nearly smiled. He felt so bad for having messed up. He was like a child. "Not everyone can be bought. You didn't relax did you? I can see it in your eyes. Go to bed." she kissed his cheek. "And forgive yourself."

When Puck was gone, Santana took his seat. The tea lay forgotten on the counter. "Tell me the real reason why you don't want to kill him." Mercedes opened her mouth to deny it, but Santana cut her off. "Don't. I know you. Tell me what's up."

"He's intriguing." replied Mercedes. "He reminds me of us before everything happened. Before we got crazy. We can learn from him."

"Normalcy is over-rated." said Santana. "Why would you want to be like them? We're capable, strong, cunning. We win. We've been winning for years now."

"But don't you think it's weird that the only time we feel needed is when we watch these people take their last breaths? Or how we go out of our way to make people suffer so that we can feel anything?" Mercedes shook her head. "We aren't human anymore, Tana. Maybe our bodies are but we don't have humanity. That's gone. I can't even regret everything we've done because I enjoyed it too much. And in some weird twisted way of fate, we ended up richer than half the people in Lima. What does that say about us?"

"It says that we're people who did the best they could with what was given to them." answered Santana. Her voice wavered, a sure sign that Mercedes' words had touched her. "We're survivors, Mercedes, even if that makes us monsters. But if you're convinced keeping this man will somehow fix us, then by all means keep him. Just... don't lose yourself in that dream. You keep us grounded amidst the insanity."

Mercedes nodded and felt Santana squeeze her shoulder.

"And that's not true." added Santana.

"What's not true?"

"Those aren't the only times we feel. When you or Puck get hurt, I feel the pain too and I'm happy when you're happy. You're my family, both of you. I think that's what people call love."

"Well then, I think I love you too." smiled Mercedes. "But Tana, if he tries to run away..." she met her sister's gaze. "Kill him."

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><p><strong>Alors, what do you think? No? Yes?<strong>

**We'll find out just what crimes Puck, Santana and Mercedes have committed over the past few years and why in the next few chapters. Oh, and we'll meet Apollo. He's a pet. Like, an actual pet. Not a person.**

**Reviews are lovely (:**


	2. Acceptance

******Thanks so much for the reviews and the alerts! **

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. **

**Note: someone mentioned sex... Rape will _not_ be incorporated in the story. That's just... no. When/if they decided to be that intimate, both parties with want it. **

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><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**Acceptance**

"_I'm not wise, but the beginning of wisdom is there; _

_it's like relaxing into - and an acceptance of – things."_

Tina Turner

.

.

A month had passed since Mercedes and her friends, or siblings [one really couldn't be certain], had taken Sam from the dark streets of Lima and brought him to Marshall Hall. They hadn't killed him, he was thankful for that much. But they hadn't let him out of his room long enough to stretch his legs and get some fresh air. He had bathroom breaks and a daily twenty minutes for a shower. Meals were brought to his room by a very nervous Puck, who refused to look him in the eyes.

Sam spent most of his days daydreaming and listening to the trio's interactions. After his second week in captivity, he'd come to accept that no one was coming to save him. Any plan he had to escape had been postponed. He needed something to work with, and he had nothing.

He spent a lot of time listening to the trio talk, trying to understand them, and had come up empty handed. There was no explanation as to why he was still alive, though he suspected Mercedes was behind that. They laughed a lot and teased each other, and sometimes, when the evening called for it, Sam could hear them sing together. Santana had a bluesy voice; raspy and sexy. Puck had a voice that could sing anything from rap to country. Then there was Mercedes. Her voice was soulful and seductive. It called to him, like a siren in the sea.

They seemed normal enough, if you ignored the whole kidnapping and murdering thing. Which, he mused, was a big factor. He wanted to understand, to fix them and escape. After all, he had made his living helping people who were lost. Children, to be exact, but that didn't mean he wasn't able to help adults. There was a sharp knock at the door that brought him out of his thoughts. That would be Mercedes with his lunch tray. He knew it was her because she was the only one who bothered to show some type of respect for him.

"Yep," he said and sighed as the door opened. He frowned when he saw her hands were empty.

"Do you want to join me?" Mercedes asked. Her expression was unreadable, as it often was when he was near her.

"Join you where?" he asked cautiously.

"For lunch, in the dining room."

He stared for a second, waiting for the punch line. When there was none, he chuckled. "This is starting to look like _Beauty and the Beast_. You know?"

Mercedes cocked her head to the side, one eyebrow raised.

"You've never heard of it?" he exclaimed. "Well, there's this really pretty girl- Belle- who's kept prisoner in this old castle by Beast, a hideous looking man and-"

"Are you telling me I remind you of this... hideous looking man?"

"God, no. Never." Shit, thought Sam. "That's not what I meant. In the movie, Beast asks Belle to have supper with him in the dining room, and never mind."

"Ah, I'm going to pretend this never happened." said Mercedes slowly. "It's better that way. Now, lunch or not?"

Sam didn't need to be asked again. He followed her through the gloomy hallways, keeping his mind on pleasant things. It didn't matter that he'd already been in the house for a month, it still creeped him out. Before long, they reached the dining room. The table was huge, big enough to fit at least ten people. At the end of the room there was a large fireplace. It was a room fit for a king, even if it was in need of some restoring.

"The previous owners loved luxury." said Mercedes, noticing his interest in the décor. "Judging by the amount of attention brought to the kitchen and this room, someone must have enjoyed cooking and hosting diner parties." she shrugged, a sharp jerk of the shoulders. "Sit, I'll be back in a minute."

He did so as he watched her disappear behind a large swinging door near the fireplace. True to word, she was back quickly, holding two plates of pasta.

Lunch was eaten in silence. Mercedes appeared to be lost in thought and Sam had no idea what to make out of anything. She hadn't threatened him at all today, not even when he had unintentionally insulted her. His plate clean of food, Sam pushed it away from him.

"Where are Puck and Santana?" he asked. Puck wasn't that bad, he seemed like a lost kid. It was Santana that terrified him.

"They're out." she said shortly, and set her fork down. "Tell me about yourself."

"Nope." Sam shook his head. This was a risk, but one he was willing to take.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not fair that I have to tell you about myself and you get to be all mysterious."

"Unless you haven't noticed, Sam, we're aren't exactly equals so 'fairness' isn't an option."

"But it is now." he said stubbornly.

It was clear that she wasn't used to getting much back-talk. He saw shock flicker in her eyes before it was replaced with amusement.

"Fine, a question for a question."

"Deal." Sam smiled to himself. He was going to save her and be free. Thank the fucking lord.

"What do you do?" she asked. "and don't lie, I'll know if you do."

"I work at the youth center in Lima. Kids that need a place to stay out of trouble go there. I also do therapy, for kids mostly. Everyone needs someone who'll listen. Do you work?"

"I don't need to." she replied. "We have enough inheritance to last for a while. What made you want to help kids?"

"My parents lost their jobs when I was younger. Recessions suck. I needed to help them, so I did some things I'm not proud of. I grew up too quickly. I figured everything happens for a reason and decided to take that experience and use it to help other people. I'm good with kids." he flashed her a smile. "Why do you live here if you have so much money?"

"I- we- no longer exist. If we turned up in government databases, too many questions would be asked. All we want is peace." she was still guarded, but he saw her soften a bit. "What kind of things did you do that make you ashamed?"

"Stripped. I stripped for two years. Silly to be ashamed today, but I hated it. It was easy money though, and we needed it. It was my secret. Are Santana and Puck really your siblings? You look nothing alike."

"No," she shook her head. "At least, we aren't blood related if that's what you mean. But they are my family in every other sense of the term. You say you work with kids, that you're a shrink, but your hands aren't soft." she glanced at his hands. "They're worker hands."

"I play the guitar, and I build things when I have free time. For the center." he smiled again, this time nervously. "Why haven't you killed me yet?"

"I think you're interesting."

"But you kept me locked in a room for a month."

"Twenty-five days." she corrected. "You aren't the only one who needed to adjust. I need Santana to warm up to this situation. The only one keeping you alive is me. You have something I want and until I get that, you can't leave."

Sam frowned. He had no idea what she was talking about. "I don't-"

"Yeah, you do. The thing is, people like you don't realize how lucky they are. We watch people. We've seen happy people throw love away for a quick roll in the sheets. We've seen people let fear consume them. We've seen hate burn bright in eyes that should only see beauty. You people don't understand how lucky you are to have the opportunity to love, to fear, to hate. You can never balance out those emotions. So while we're here, unable to feel, you just take advantage of your them. You make up silly reasons to feed the hate in your hearts, to ruin the joy of love and you build cities based on fear. I want that luxury, Sam. I want to have so many emotions burning in me that I can afford to be careless with them. If I knew how to love, I'd never let anything outshine that feeling."

Sam shook his head, still slightly confused. Now that he was being given the chance to help her, he was nervous. "What can I do? I mean, do you want therapy? What? Why me and not the only people you've killed."

"You weren't supposed to ever come across us. We don't just kill anyone, it's complicated. You aren't our type. But you do have something special, something that shouldn't be wasted. Teach me to be human, and I'll let you go. You'll never see us again." she smiled sadly. "It would be a shame to kill you, but I will if you won't help."

"You don't need to threaten my life all the time, Mercedes." Sam glared at her. "I'll help. But I want to be free after, no changing minds."

She nodded. "Perfect, but we do things my way."

"Meaning?"

"You don't get to sit on a chair scribbling notes while I go on and on about my life. That's just stupid." she took a breath. "And we never speak of this when the others are here. Santana wants no part in this... experience and I don't want to upset Puck. He's been through to much already."

Sam shrugged. He wasn't planning on scribbling notes in the first place. He knew he wouldn't have been helpful to her, following that method. As for talking to the others, he never really had an opportunity to do so and he said as much.

"Yes, well, you'll be dining with us as of now. I've cleared it with them."

"Great."

"Can you play something for me?" asked Mercedes abruptly. Though, he noticed that when she asked something she was merely commanding someone politely. "Puck has a guitar-"

"Just show me where it is." he grinned, despite her glare.

"I really hate being interrupted, Sam."

"And I really hate being kidnapped, _Mercedes_." he countered, much to her surprise.

"I can't tell if you're stupid or brave." she mumbled, shaking her head and standing. "Wait."

.

She back a few minutes later, holding a guitar that much resembled his own. "Puck has a few, is this one okay?"

"Perfect." He took the guitar from her as she sat in her chair. Sam wasn't prepared. He didn't know Mercedes, or the type of music she wanted to hear. Was he supposed to try to impress her? Or just play because she was curious? He chose to play a song for himself; not too upbeat, soft and sweet enough not to offend even though the lyrics were somewhat sad and wistful.

_If I could leave this town, I'd bolt_

_Enjoying the lost and found, And start all over_

_I crib the open road, Like birds in summer_

_A chance to break the mould, Is all that I'm after_

_Can you offer anything, doctor_

_Help me start again, Moving forward_

_Without awkward moves, I would be brave_

The moment he began, Mercedes felt herself soften. He had a sweet voice, but it was the emotion behind it that touched her. For a second, she scolded herself for having part in making him feel like that. But if he was singing for himself, then she guessed his home life wasn't going very well either. That wasn't her fault, but it interested her. Sam wasn't like anyone she had ever met, for the simple fact that she never met someone who could be her equal. Santana, as much as Mercedes loved her, argued and complained but there was no denying who was boss. And Puck, well he was an entirely different story. Yet, Sam had sat at that table and actually challenged her. That was new and she wasn't certain she liked it.

_And if I could just escape this body_

_I know I wouldn't fake for just anybody_

_I claw my heart for you_

_And keep it until I was okay with what I do_

_That's all that I'm after_

"Sam." Mercedes placed a hand on his to stop him. "I think it's time for you to go back to your room."

"You don't like my voice." he said. "Nothing like yours, but it's not that bad."

"You have a great voice." she admitted. "But Santana and Puck will be here soon."

Sam nodded slowly. There was something in her eyes that he had never seen before. It wasn't sadness, it seemed more like confusion. Well, he'd succeeded in making her feel something. He still wasn't certain how a person like her was unable to feel. She had rage in her, didn't she? Unless she wouldn't feel the need to murder people.

He left the guitar on the table and followed her back to his room.

"Hey, Mercedes?" he asked as he sat on his bed. "You can feel. You just don't know how to deal with those feelings."

"I don't-"

"When are you happiest?"

There he was, interrupting her again. However, his question caused her to hesitate. "I'm only happy when I see people die." she said finally. "That's what we need to fix."

"But there has to be a reason, something that triggered that response to murder..." he wondered aloud.

"of course there is." her eyes were cool again and any trace of emotion he had seen in them were now gone. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."

And with that, she stepped out of the room and locked the door behind her. The murders... they weren't random. They were getting something out of every kill. She was happiest when she killed? Like a drug haze? He had so many questions, but he relaxed knowing he'd know everything soon enough.

For the first time in years, Sam prayed. He was finally given a chance to save himself, and at the same time learn something. The future suddenly looked brighter.

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><p><strong>Song: Goldfish - Kate Walsh<strong>

**Reviews are lovely 3**

**Thank you for reading!**


	3. Understanding

**Disclaimer:** These characters aren't mine.

**Note**: Towards the end of the chapter, Sam plays a song on the piano. I know some people like listening to the music while they read, so: the song is the same tune they used is Criminal Minds. Just go to youtube and type _"Criminal Minds Coda Piano Song_" and you should find it!

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><p>.<p>

**Understanding**

"_Is there anything more dangerous than _

_sympathetic understanding?_"

-Pablo Picasso-

.

There was a warm breeze in the air, despite the fact that autumn was all around her. She preferred it that way and dreaded the moment when the first snow flake would fall from the thick white clouds and into her hands. There was something depressing about winter. It was already in the air, the grim and gloomy feeling of death, and October had ended on a few weeks ago. She enjoyed the stillness and beauty of nature when no one was there but Mercedes found it peaceful, even with Sam's presence.

She walked, hands in pockets, her nose buried deep in her white scarf. Thousands of things occupied her mind, yet it was the inevitable conversation about her past that plagued her at the moment. He said he needed to understand why she was the way she was, and to do that he needed to know her life story.

"It's beautiful." murmured Sam, as they walked through the woods.

"Yeah, it is." said Mercedes , a touch of wonder in her eyes. "No one comes here but me. Tana and Puck haven't walked this far, I don't think they even know beautiful this place is. I've never told them."

"But you brought me. Why?"

"I think the worst stories should be told in an environment in which one could find comfort." she answered slowly.

He nodded, accepting her answer. She had said she wanted to do things her way. If taking long walks on the grounds were a part of her 'way' then he was cool with it. He had missed the fresh air. "I don't understand something. You say you don't exist anymore, but you have your inheritance. To get your inheritance, you would have had to sign papers."

"That's right." she nodded and slowed her pace. "Do you know about the Murphys?" Sam shook his head. "They were most famous for stealing a tiger from YoCa's Traveling Circus in 1998." One look at her told Sam she had shut down again. She spoke in a robotic manner, as though she was reciting a stranger's story. "I've always found it rather rude that more attention was brought on a Tiger than the families they had hurt."

"What happened?"

"Glenn and Marissa Murphy got married in 1991. They were in love and happy. Marissa got pregnant, but she was only a few months in and she lost the baby. They were devastated, her especially. Glenn would have done anything to make her happy. He wanted to give her the world. So, he went to nearest shopping center and stole the first baby he saw. Puck. It kept her happy for a little while, but soon she wanted another child. A little girl. Santana. They stole a lot more babies. They didn't keep them all, just the first three. The rest were sold to other people for outrageous prices."

"They kidnapped you." said Sam softly.

"Three weeks after they took Santana." she nodded. "There was something twisted about the whole business. Usually when people kidnap a child, they give them a new name, they make the child their own. The Murphys never did that. Glenn went to great lengths to find out who we were and call us by our proper names."

"But that's a big risk to take," Sam frowned. "What if someone heard?"

"What would they say? We never went to school, barely left the house. If anyone saw us, it meant they were doing business with them and no one wanted the trouble that came with that. Can you really blame them? It's a business where you take care of your own. You do what it takes to protect yourself. I think Glenn took satisfaction in knowing he'd gotten away with all the kidnappings. We were like his living, breathing souvenirs."

"Did they treat you well?"

"Glenn had a temper. A big one and he was mean with words." Mercedes let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "When were old enough, we were given chores. To disobey was out of the question. Marissa was a troubled woman. I think her miscarriage had been God's way of telling her she wasn't meant to have kids."

"You believe in God." said Sam, amused.

"If evil exists, and it does, shouldn't the good?"

"Good point. I believe in God too." Sam grinned and motioned for her to continue. "So, you never knew your parents."

"That's right." nodded Mercedes. "Glenn and Marissa raised us like soldiers. Living with them taught us that the more you felt, the more you were distracted and the worse they treated you. Eventually, you learned to shut down completely because that meant you weren't affected by anything that happened and that helped you survive."

"I'm sorry-" started Sam.

"I don't want your pity. Don't forget I took you too, Sam. We aren't any better."

"Fine. You said they stole a tiger."

"Yes. Marissa went through a phase..." Mercedes frowned as she recollected the events. "She wanted to be seen as royalty. I guess she thought if she had some type of giant cat, she'd feel like some kind of Egyptian Queen or something, who knows. Stupid, if you ask me. She never did make much sense. But Glenn stole Apollo. Anything to make his lady happy."

"But what the hell did they do with it?"

"They kept it, like you would keep a dog. Sometimes Glenn let his temper get the better of him. He'd use Apollo to clean up his messes." Mercedes shrugged, unconcerned.

"Wait, he fed Apollo people? The same Apollo you were going to feed me to?"

" I was never going to feed you to anyone. That was Santana." said Mercedes, her eyes flashing. "But yes. They used him to threaten people, for power. When they died, we took everything. Apollo, the money... See, they had kept everything in vaults. You wanted a baby, you paid in cash. They didn't a bank account. They didn't want the questions, the hassle. They didn't want the paper trail."

"They died of natural causes, or they were murdered?" asked Sam, glancing at Mercedes.

"That's a story best left for another day. Tomorrow, maybe." As they neared the house, she could make out Puck, watching them from the kitchen window. "What I told you, that stays between us. If they know I told you, they wouldn't be happy. For your sake, keep your mouth shut."

"Yes, ma'am. Last question. Why didn't you go back to your parents when the Murphys died?"

"And show them what a mess their child became?" Mercedes shook her head. "I'm not what they would have wanted to see on their doorstep."

Much to her surprise, Sam grinned and nudged her with his shoulder. "That's feeling is shame. Mercedes, you have emotions, you just don't understand them and when they get to overwhelming, you shut down."

Unconvinced, she simply rolled her eyes.

"And," Sam started, with a smirk. "I just want to point out that we made it through most of the day without you threatening me once. Not even when you told me we were going for a walk, and I know you keep a dagger somewhere on you."

"I'm very capable of using it too." she said. "What's your point?"

"My point is, you can trust me. I know you're serious when you say you won't take any bullshit. But if I'm going to help you, you need to trust me. Just like I trust you not to poison my food. I know my place. I know who makes the rules."

Mercedes nodded and sighed. He had a point. Asking Sam to help her meant that she would have to trust him, and today he had proven that he could be trusted. Which didn't mean that she wasn't going to keep an eye on him. Just that she would be more subtle about it.

.

**SMSMSMSMSMS**

**.**

She'd sent Sam to the living room the moment they had enter the house. Puck wasn't happy. The look in his eyes told her they would have to talk soon. Not a short conversation like they would have now, but a long one with Santana present.

"Mercedes." he said as Sam was out of earshot.

"What's wrong?" asked Mercedes wearily, sitting on a stool.

"You were outside with him. Outside, Cedes." Puck shook his head. "You're asking for trouble. This can't go on. He's not even scared of you anymore."

Mercedes looked away from him and frowned. "Is that really such a bad thing?"

"Do you remember the last time we let our guard down?" asked Puck, taking one of Mercedes' hands in his own. "We got hurt. I don't want to see you hurt again. I'm worried about you. We took it too far with the killings last time. We won't do that again. I won't make anymore mistakes. I promise."

"Puck," she smiled sadly. "We told ourselves we never wanted to be like them. We're worse. I don't like that."

"We don't have a choice-"

"Yeah, we do. There's always a choice. I'm trying to make the right one." Mercedes squeezes his hand. "And I know you don't like this either."

"But what if it gets worse after this experiment? What if we're even more fucked up?" he asked nervously.

"Then we'll fix it, like we always do."

.

**SMSMSMSMSM**

.

When Mercedes entered the living room, Sam was seated at the piano, absently pressing the keys. He seemed to be lost in thought. She watched as he smiled to himself, apparently amused by something that had just crossed his mind. He was handsome. She hadn't wanted to admit he was anything but cute, but there was no use denying it. He looked up and his green eyes met hers. What she saw shocked her for a moment. His eyes had been filled with emotions she couldn't quite make out. It was only for a second before everything was replaced by a sad smile and his absent key tapping turned into a beautiful melody.

"You never told me you could play." she said quietly, as she sat next to him.

"You never asked."

"I'm sorry you're in this mess."

Sam never took his eyes off the piano, even when she touched his shoulder gently. "You do what you have to do to survive, right? Not like I'm missed, anyway."

So that was it. Mercedes didn't understand how someone could not go looking for their lost loved one. Despite her problems, she knew that if Santana and Puck were in any trouble, she would do what she had to do to find them and bring them home safely. That's what families and friends were meant to do- look out for each other. She hadn't been completely cruel. Mercedes had checked in on Sam's apartment weeks ago, when she had made up her mind about his future. It wasn't hard to find it. He had his address written in his wallet, which she had taken from him upon his arrival, one some if-you-find-this-wallet-bring-it-here card.

"There was a woman you lived with. She was blond," started Mercedes.

"Quinn," he nodded. "Don't hurt her."

"I wasn't planning to. She moved. She was with a boy in a wheelchair. She left your things untouched though. I checked."

Sam closed his eyes, and stopped playing. On one hand, he was pleased Quinn had finally made a choice, but on the other, it made him feel worthless. While he was kidnapped, they were thinking about couples. Didn't anyone care where he was? A month had past, wasn't anyone worried. It would take a few more months before his parents realized he was missing. That was his own fault, he didn't talk to them as much as he should have.

"Like I said," he muttered bitterly as he began playing again. "it's not like I'm missed."

Going with instinct, Mercedes interrupted his tune by covering one of his hands with her own. "I don't understand how someone could not miss you. You're a good person." When he looked at her, question burning in his eyes, she gave him a hesitant smile. "At your place, you have a thick binder filled with activities and trips for the kids at your center."

"Everyone has that," Sam rolled his eyes.

"But not everyone has a list of gifts they need to build in time for Christmas. There are fifteen regulars at your center. These are the ones you mentioned in your notes. There are more kids, but you refer to these as 'the lost ones' and you have a sketch of the things you want to make for them. From barbie doll houses to fancy guitar holders."

"You went through my things." said Sam, his voice filled with annoyance.

"Guilty," Mercedes shrugged, and took her hand off his. "But seeing that is what made me consider our arrangement in the first place. You had a calendar that had all your free time scheduled so that you'd have enough time to finish all fifteen projects. Someone as good as you should be missed... I'm sorry I can't let you go back yet. I need you."

Sam's gaze met hers again. Her expression was unreadable, as it often was. How funny, he wondered, was it that his kidnapper seemed to care more for him than his own friends. If it had been anyone else, he wondered if they were trying to manipulate him or make seem like a fool, but Mercedes had always been extremely direct with him. If there was something he could count on it was her honesty. What he hadn't counted on, however, was the attraction he felt towards her. He'd always found her beautiful, since the moment he'd first seen her, but he hadn't expected to actually like her. Yet, the more he learned about her, the less he was upset about his situation and the more intrigued he was by her. Gently, he picked up her hand and placed it on the keys. He felt her tense under his touch, but he continued, placing her fingers on the right notes.

"After me." he said softly. Sam played the first few notes of the tune he had been playing before, and paused. "Go on."

Mercedes attempted to copy what he had done, and failed. She would have snatched her hand away from the piano if Sam hadn't played the notes again and given her an encouraging smile. It took her three more tries, but eventually she got it. They played together, listening to the music silently. Both were unaware of Santana, who watched them from the hallway, her arms crossed. She never said a word as she watched them.

"Imagine Santana and/or Puck died or disappeared." said Sam. Mercedes stopped playing. Her eyes were cool and her jaw clenched, but he was unaffected. "Don't shut down on me. If you want to feel, you have to let yourself. Just imagine they didn't come home day. Close your eyes. Now, tell me what you feel."

Mercedes closed her eyes as she was told. At first, she felt nothing, still unwilling to let herself feel. He didn't say another word as he continued playing, waiting for her to speak. It was his patience that eventually convinced her to relax. But once she did, she felt like she was drowning. Her heart ached. She could have sworn she felt it stop, even.

"That feeling is sadness. Just the thought of loosing someone you love is enough to send someone over the edge." Sam smiled. "Plenty of hearts are broken by a simple thought. Keep your eyes closed. Now, multiply that feeling by a few hundreds. That's sorrow. When you lose something or someone you care for, that's what it'll feel like."

"That's a horrible feeling." whispered Mercedes.

"But it's one everyone will feel at least once in their lives, and when you do, it important you deal with it. You'll learn how. I told you, you can feel."

In the hallway, Santana eased away from the door, frowning. Something was happening. She had no idea what, but she saw something in Mercedes that she had never seen before. Maybe Mercedes hadn't been completely insane. Maybe they weren't done for. Quietly, she made her way to her room, her mind still on her sister.

.

* * *

><p><strong>Piano Song<strong>

****Criminal Minds '_Coda_' Piano song.

I hope you like this and that's it's moving at an acceptable pace. Next chapter will feature Mercedes telling Sam what pushed her and her 'siblings' to start killing people. There is an actual reason for what she does. Also, a new deal will be made between Samcedes.

Reviews make me a happy camper. Any feedback would be awesome!


	4. Revelations

**Disclaimer:** Dis cray shit ain't mine.

Hi! thanks so much for the reviews and alerts. They make writing this a lot funner! and a very special thanks to 93flwerfly. Your comment made me smile so much! I'm happy you and all my other readers like this.

Sara xx

* * *

><p><strong>Revelations<strong>

**.**

"_And of all illumination which human reason can give, none is _

_comparable to the discovery of what we are, our nature, our obligations, _

_what happiness we are capable of, and what are the means of attaining it_."  
>-Adam Weishaupt-<p>

**.**

Mercedes was a beautiful woman. Sam never even pretended to think otherwise. He'd seen his fair share of beautiful women, Quinn and Tina, one of his best mates' wife, being amongst them. There was something different about this girl, though. Something that pulled at him, that caused him to dream about her. It worried him that while he hadn't forgotten she was part of the reason he was a prisoner in this house, he no longer held it against her. Oh, he'd wanted to hate her so badly. He should have.

She kept him here against his will, and had threatened his life on numerous occasions. But there were moments, when she must have thought no one was watching, where she let her guard down and he couldn't take his eyes off her. Moments like now. Mercedes sat on the edge of her back porch, lost

in thought. Her features, which had oh so hardened with time, had softened. Watching her from the kitchen, Sam couldn't help but feel for her; so sad, yet strong- even if she didn't realize it. She smiled softly to herself, and what a smile it was. No, Sam couldn't hold anything against her, even if he tried.

They'd spent the last few days making small talk and while she hadn't made a complete 180, he had seen a subtle change in her. Mercedes was more relaxed, offering frequent smiles that had begun to meet her eyes. He wasn't stupid. The dark beauty was still a walking ticking time-bomb that could go from sweet to deadly in a second. He'd be a lying fool if he said he hadn't grown a soft spot for her.

"Don't do it," came a voice from behind him. Sam glanced around to see Puck behind him, before returning his gaze onto Mercedes. "Don't fall for her. This never lasts."

"What never lasts?" asked Sam quietly.

"This vulnerability. You think you can help her, and she wants to believe that you can." Puck stepped beside him and crossed his arms. "But you can't, and what you're doing is going to kill her. That's how we survived so long. We shut down. Maybe we have normal moments, like now. They never stay."

"I don't see how I'm killing her."

"They say people can die of broken hearts. Ours is shattered. She'll start to feel, and the pain will overwhelm her and she'll die." Puck stared hard at Mercedes. "We live off anger and the occasional fear. I'm not ready to let her go just yet, not because of some big lipped jerk we kidnapped by mistake."

Sam smiled softly. He was getting through to Mercedes, or else Puck would have ignored him like he always had. It shouldn't have made him as happy as it did, to know Puck felt something as well- not when he was neither his patient nor his friend. "You love her."

"As much as I can." Puck nodded. "At least, I don't want her to ever leave and I can't watch her get hurt. If that's love, then yes. She and Santana are my family. You can't understand what we are." Sam was silent as he listened to Puck, and didn't miss the cold, frustrated tone in which the man continued. "But you'll stay and you'll keep trying to help her. She'll let you, because she trusts you. Just know when it kills her, I'll come after you. I'm looking out for the both of you."

"Yeah, and how?" asked Sam, incredulously. "You and Santana walk around here and never miss out on a chance to threaten me. You wanted to kill me and now you're making a big deal out of me trying to be a friend for her, when I know you sleep around. You call yourself a sex god for Christ's sake and I'm supposed to understand why she can't have a friend? Just one. How's that even fair? And you even have the nerve to say you're looking out for me."

"She can fuck whoever she wants. I really don't give a shit. She could fuck her way through Lima for all I care. That's her right. But a friend..." Puck shook his head. "A _friend_ like you will break whatever's left of her heart. A friend is intimate, sex doesn't have to be. I just hope you realize how insane it is to be friends with one of your kidnappers."

Sam merely shrugged and walked away. Maybe Puck was right and what he was doing wasn't normal at all, but he couldn't let Mercedes suffer that much. Not when she made it clear she wanted to get better. He stepped outside, and relaxed, feeling the heat of the sun against his skin. Mercedes was still siting, her back to him.

"I was wondering when you'd join me." she said as Sam settled beside her.

"You weren't waiting too long, I hope."

"Not at all. I was enjoying the weather, besides, I knew Puck wanted to speak to you." she smiled. "So what are you going to do?" There was no double-meaning in her words, no death glare. Only curiosity.

"You asked for my help." he answered, with an edge to his voice. "I'm giving it to you. So, why don't you tell me how the Murphys died? It's been a few days-"

"And you've been patient. Thank you." interrupted Mercedes. She breathed in deeply, and looked away from him, but not before he saw the walls were put firmly back into place. "Puck forgot to feed Apollo one day. He'd been sick, and it just slipped his mind. Marissa went into a fit. God, she cried so much I thought she'd die of dehydration. I told you Glenn had a temper, well he had an even bigger one that day. He was on Puck in a second, beating him." Sam reached for her hand and gripped it tightly, despite her tensing under his touch. "I hit him- Glenn- hard across the back of the head with the pan I'd been using from supper. He turned ready to hit me but Santana came out of nowhere and just stabbed him in the gut. Puck took over after that, and made up for all the years he hadn't been able to defend us or himself. Meanwhile, Marissa stopped crying and tried to handle me and Santana, but we did the same thing to her. It was like an adrenaline rush. I don't know, but as soon as we started, we couldn't stop. It felt good, you know?"

He didn't, couldn't know. "You beat them to death?"

"God, no." Mercedes closed her eyes, in what he supposed was shame. "They were dying. A mess of broken bones, bruises and stab wounds. We took their van and I sent Puck and Tana to packed it with money and the few other things we wanted, while I kept an eye on Glenn and Marissa. When that was done, we poured gasoline on them and lit them on fire. They were still alive and we were only sixteen."

Sam let go of her hand and recoiled in horror. Just the thought of it all was enough to make him sick. It was one thing to stab someone, but to watch them burn?

"You can't understand how it felt to hear them scream, to see them suffer. I was happy, so damn happy. We all were. For the first time, I felt like we were okay. Like we could do anything. We were free! They weren't going to hurt us anymore!" Mercedes smiled at the memory. "It was the best feeling in the world. We saved Apollo while the house was burning, and left. I only looked back once. Just in time to see the house collapse on their bodies. We'd been planning on escaping for a while. We stole money from the safe every once in a while and hid it in a cave in the nearby forest. So, we went to retrieve that money and never went back. We've been here ever since. We thought we'd be happy, but we weren't. What we felt when we watched the Murphy's die? We couldn't feel it anymore. It would have been easier if we had never felt it at all, because now... now all we want is that feeling back."

"So now you kill people who look like Glenn and Marissa, because you get that feeling or at least some of it back." concluded Sam, and Mercedes nodded. It made sense, in a twisted sort of way. Having never felt such an intense joy before their death, her brain had associated happiness and hope with their murder. The trio had probably tried and failed to get the correct formula in order to be happy countless times. They would have killed random people in random ways first, and when that failed they would have attempted to get random people and killed them in the same manner they killed the Murphys. Until finally, they would have picked people who resembled them physically. And that would work, because their brains had been programmed to believe it. Which explained why Mercedes had told him he wasn't their type. This changed everything.

**.**

Three hours later, Sam had visited every room in the old house with the exception of the basement which was home to Apollo. There was no way in hell he was going in there alone. Especially since he knew for certain that it had tasted human flesh on numerous occasions. The house wasn't as scary as he thought it would have been. Sure, esthetic touch ups were needed here and there, but it wasn't haunted. At least, he almost certain it wasn't. Finally bored, Sam went looking for Mercedes, hoping to finish the conversation that had been so rudely interrupted by Santana, who needed a few minutes alone with her. He hadn't expected Mercedes to grip his hand and send him a warning glance before sending him inside alone and as much as he wanted to know what they were talking about, he hadn't eavesdropped.

During his stroll in the house, he'd replayed his conversations with her over and over again in his mind. After much debating, he decided she really wasn't to blame. Of course, murdering was terrible and they needed to change that, but could he really blame her? If anyone was to blame, it was Glenn and Marissa Murphy who had taken innocent children and treated them terribly. They had created monsters. What Mercedes needed was love and plenty of it. None of this was her fault, was it? Suddenly, he didn't feel so guilty for being attracted to her. Not when she as much a victim as he and everyone else involved was.

He entered her room, and frowned when he found it empty. On her bed, a very pretty black dress was laid out, as were jewelery, lingerie and a pair of black stilettos. Mercedes hadn't mentioned going anywhere, so it surprised him. Then he heard it, the sound of dripping water and a quiet humming.

"Mercedes?" he called, uncertain.

"In the bathroom!"

He hesitated, unsure whether to wait in her bedroom or go to her private bathroom. He opted for the first option, and sat on her bed. Walking into the bathroom meant seeing her naked in her bath, and he wasn't ready for that. Not just yet. It wasn't long before she stepped out of the bathroom, her hair still damp and a towel wrapped around her.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, arching a brow.

"I just wanted to finish our conversation from before,"

"There's nothing else to say." she said, and he frowned at her tone. "I want to be happy again, and if I have to kill a million people then so be it. Until you prove me otherwise, I don't have a choice."

Sam shook his head, but decided not to press the matter. He didn't want the progress they had made to disappear in one night because he asked to make questions at the wrong time. Keep the chit chat simple, he told himself.

"Are you going anywhere?" he asked, gesturing to clothes on her bed.

Mercedes laughed, and shook her head. "You always were funny. So innocent, even after you know everything. It's Hunt Night. Didn't you know?"

"What are you...?" His eyes widened as realization struck. This was the night when Santana and Puck went hunting for their next victims. Two more people would meet their deaths so that the trio could relive the over-whelming feeling of hope they had felt when they had watched the Murphys die. "You can't. You have to stop this!"

"Haven't you been listening to what I've been telling you?" asked Mercedes, her voice cool and detached. "I can't help myself. You were supposed to fix me. You couldn't, otherwise we wouldn't be here right now, talking about something we both know will never change." she turned away from him, reaching for her bra, but he grabbed her arm. She'd only explained the whole story today. He hadn't had enough time to help her, to find a way to experience the hope without murdering.

"Please," he was desperate to help not only the innocent men and women who would meet their deaths that night, but the lost woman who stood before him. "You want to change. Now's the perfect chance to do that. Stop Santana and Puck, save those people. Don't you remember how unhappy you were when you were with Glenn? That's what they'll be feeling."

Mercedes yanked her arm away from his grasp and took a step back, gripping the towel that covered her tightly. He heard the unspoken "_And what about my feelings_". For a second, Sam was terrified he'd stepped out of line and upset her, but she shook her head and turned away.

"Get out, please."

It took Sam a moment to realize the words had come from her. She had spoken with a sense of vulnerability that was unaccustomed to her. For the first time since their meeting, he could finally see the doubt she claimed to feel reflected in her tone and face. It was why he paused at the door way on his way out and looked back at her, the beautiful and dangerous woman.

"You think you don't have a choice, that you can't make it without this extra push. It's not true. If you let yourself try, you'd be amazed. But that's the thing isn't it? You can't try because despite all the confidence you ooze, you're terrified. Terrified of the future, terrified of what's inside you. So, you're just going to keep doing this and living in some type of haze where you're own emotions are strangers, because it's easier." he paused, as she turned to face him. "But I saw glimpses of the woman you could be, if you let yourself. She's not perfect, but no one is. And there was one thing she definitely wasn't: a coward." He closed the door quickly, before she could comment. Maybe he had taken a risk, speaking to her in such a manner but he didn't regret it. He wouldn't let himself. He went back to his room, hands in pockets silently praying that she wouldn't let him down.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are lovely xx<strong>


	5. Trust

**Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine sadly. **

**I'm so (x500000) sorry for the late update. I've been busy and I have some intense writers block when it came to fanfiction that I couldn't quite understand. I'm not super proud of this chapter, it's not my best. I'm fully aware of that. Being away from this fic for so long kind of threw me off my groove. I need to get back in the game! Hopefully, it's not that bad.**

* * *

><p><strong>Trust<strong>

**.**

"_You may be deceived if you trust too much, _

_but you will live in torment if you don't trust enough." _

_Frank Crane _

**.**

I shouldn't have pressured her, Sam thought, I should have left her alone. He sat on his bed, listening to the furious whispers that came from beyond his door. He could tell Santana was the angriest between the two and Puck was hurt. Whatever it was that had happened, he knew he was the cause of it.

His mind traveled to Mercedes and the conversation they'd had the previous night. Had he hurt her? Of course not. She wasn't in tune with her emotions enough to know what hurt felt like, he reasoned.

He braced when he saw the door open. Within seconds, Santana was on his, her hands wrapped around his throat. "What did you do to her?" she screamed. "What did you say?"

Puck pulled her away from him and sent the bond a glare that could have made even the dead shudder. "You're going to fix her," he said quietly. "You're going to fix Mercedes and then leave. If you don't, I'll let Santana kill you and I'll feed you to Apollo."

Sam would have taken Santana's violence over Puck's promise any day. "I- I don't even know what's wrong!" he exclaimed, rubbing his sore neck.

Santana would have grabbed him again if Puck hadn't been holding her back. The latter whispered something in her ear that visibly calmed her and let her go.

"Last night you told her something." Santana smoothed down her pants, hands trembling. "Whatever you aid worked. She didn't kill last night. But she has left her bed since! She doesn't eat, doesn't speak and I know she didn't sleep last night. You're going to fix it and you're going to fix it now!"

She screamed the last word, startling Sam. She was livid and dangerous. He could see it in her eyes. One wrong move and he'd be dead before he knew what was happening. Mercedes had them twisted around her finger… No, they had each other twisted around their fingers. Between Santana's visible fear and Mercedes' strange behavior, Puck was lost. He looked, despite his height and age, like a lost child.

Santana stumbled back a few steps only to be caught by Puck, who steadied her and took her hand. "We can't lose her. We can't lose each other. You have to fix her. Bring her back to us."

"I don't know if I can."

"She listens to you." Said Puck. "Fix her, or you'll break us."

**.**

Puck and Santana hadn't lied. Mercedes was a mess, a quiet one. She lay on her bed, staring unblinkingly at the wall. There was food on a tray on her bedside table, but it was untouched.

"Your siblings said you didn't join them last night." Said Sam quietly as he joined her. "I'm proud of you."

No response.

"They're scared." He continued. "You aren't eating, you aren't speaking."

Still no response.

"I want to help you, 'Cedes. But I can't do that if I'm dead." His voice broke, despite himself. "You know she's going to kill me if you don't get better. I don't wanna leave you."

Finally, Mercedes acknowledged him. "Santana wouldn't hurt you. I have her word."

"Her word means nothing if she's terrified. She loves you and I hurt you."

She scoffed and turned her back to him. "I asked for help, I didn't expect it to be painful. Everything hurts. Everything is dark. Everything is gloomy."

Despite the promise he'd made himself to keep his distance, Sam climbed onto the large double bed and lay beside her. "I wish you could see what I see." He whispered after a while.

"What, a mess? A monster? I'm nothing." Said Mercedes. "I should have never asked for your help. This feeling? I don't like it."

"But you feel it," Sam pointed out. "What do you feel like doing?"

She thought for a moment then rolled her eyes. "I want to cry."

"Then cry," said Sam simply.

"I can't!" she snapped. "Stop trying to turn me into you, Sam. It's not going to work. Last night was a mistake." Mercedes rolled off her bed and began pacing the room. All she wanted to do was strike him. There was a rage inside her but she knew it covered the emptiness she felt. Nothing was ever going to be going okay, she would never be happy. The Murphys had ruined her. Death was a better alternative to what she was feeling now.

"Was it really? Puck and Santana are out there somewhere worried and frightened. For you! Because they love you! Maybe if you learned to accept the past, life would be easier. Years after their death, Glenn and Marissa are still controlling you. You're letting them win."

She was on him in a flash, pinning him down onto the bed. "You can't talk to me like that! You've forgotten who's in charge here, Sam."

"But it's true isn't it? Everything I said." He didn't struggle against her as he had with Santana. "You need to find the joy in the little things. For example, that sweet feeling you get when your favorite show comes on the television. Or the guilty pleasure in eating something you know is bad for your health but is oh so good for your taste buds. Or the feeling you get when you're kissed by someone who loves you."

Taken aback by the sudden change in his tone, Mercedes loosed her grip on his arms. "I've been kissed before."

"By someone who loves you?" Sam took the opportunity to flip her onto her back. Now in control he hesitated. Fuck it, he thought. He was going to hell anyway. He leaned down to press his lips against hers. He didn't expect her to deepen the kiss so quickly and with such passion. His hands traveled down to her hips as hers raked his hair. All of his dreams, all of his fantasies… none came close to reality. She was everywhere, invading his senses. Fire, he thought, it was like fire had invaded his veins. It was nothing he'd ever felt before. Even as he tried to pull away, Mercedes pulled him closer. With every touch and every moan, he got closer to the edge threatening to fall in a love so deep it would ruin him.

"Now you have." He whispered against her lips. Sam flashed her an uncertain grin before standing and rubbing the back of his neck.

"You don't love me," said Mercedes with a laugh. She stood and stretched, arrogance and certitude finding their back to her. "But I'm flattered."

In response, Sam only smiled. "Do you like me?"

"I don't know." She answered honestly. "I do know that if you were to leave, I would be unhappy. I would feel…" she paused, searching for the right word. "I would feel sadness," she lied. Sadness wasn't the right word to describe it. Sorrow would have been more appropriate. Though there was no way she could have admitted that. Why give him the satisfaction of knowing she was growing attached to him? The good like him never stayed with the bad. In the end, they always separated. It was the natural order of things.

"If it's any consolation, I would never leave you by choice."

Sam saw her eyes narrow. "You will. It's only a matter of time."

**.**

Mercedes didn't speak for the rest of the day, much to her siblings' annoyance, but she read, cooked and cleaned all while humming. Sam watched her as she did so, following her around the house but Mercedes barely acknowledged him. On only one occasion did Mercedes speak to anyone and it was to tell Puck not to track mud into the house.

If you were to ask Sam's honest opinion on the matter, he would say he believed Mercedes was going to tumble into a deep depression. Perhaps it was for the best. Mercedes needed to deal with her past and accept it but the only time she let herself think of the terrible ordeals she had gone through was when she was upset. It was better than the bitter anger she wore.

He'd broken the rules often enough when he worked at the center. The children became family and he implicated himself in their life which was discouraged. He had birthday parties for them and Christmas parties with the ones who had nothing planned for the holiday. He was like a big brother or a father to them and it was accepted by the community because that's who Sam Evans was. He wasn't a threat, he was just… nice.

But this was different. He wasn't breaking the center's rules; he was breaking the rules in the psych handbook. Not only was he getting involved with a patient, he was getting involved with a patient who had kidnapped him. The worst part was that the more Mercedes struggled against what she believed was her very nature and the more insight he got on her life, the harder he fell.

Sam sat at the grand piano, playing Clint Mansell's '_Together We Will Live Forever_' while Mercedes read a thick leather bound book. Every so often she would look up and meet his eye, but she never spoke.

He knew it was hard for her. The nerd in him liked to compare her to a vampire who was hungry but trying not to go a killing spree. Like Stefan Salvatore after he had a taste of human blood and had to be thrown into a cell for all of Mystic Fall's protection. In that scenario, he felt like Lexie, the doting friend who got all the shit even though it was for the greater good.

Lost in thought, Sam hadn't noticed that Mercedes had come to sit by his side. "Play something for me." She whispered. "Anything. Play what you're thinking about right now."

Sam would have refused but something in her voice made it impossible to do so. What he felt was dangerous and wrong, but he couldn't do anything about it. He wasn't sure he wanted to do anything about it at all. Indulging her, he began to play.

Hauntingly sad wasn't a term Mercedes had ever understood until now. She'd never felt so invisible. Sam's eyes were closed as his fingers pressed the piano keys, lost in the music he began to sing.

_Turn down these lights, turn down the bed,_

_Turn down these voices inside my head,_

_Lay down with me, tell me no lies_

_Just hold me close, don't patronize me_

Sad, Mercedes realized. He was sad. Her eyes never left him, even though his were closed. There was tension in the room that she couldn't quite put a finger on. Strangely enough, the tension comforted her. His voice, deep and heartbroken, continued but the following words he sang caused her to pause.

_I can't make you love me if you don't_

_You can't make your heart feel something it won't._

Finally, Sam opened his eyes and smiled sadly as he sang. With a subtle shake of the head, Mercedes stood and inched away from him. Never in a million years had she thought that someone who was naturally and unapologetically _good_ could love her. But he didn't, she reasoned. You couldn't love someone you barely knew, could you? Even as she thought it, she wondered about the possibility.

_I'll close my eyes, then I won't see_

_The love you don't feel when you're holding me._

_Morning will come, and I'll do what's right_

_Just give me 'til then and I will give up the fight_

_And I will give up this fight_

He locked eyes with her as she made her way to the door. Sam had expected so many things; indifference, annoyance, anger even. Nothing could have prepared him for the tears that filled her eyes. A ghost of a smile played on her lips as she chuckled softly, shaking her head.

It gave Sam the certitude that she was in some ways, getting better. But it also gave him hope that his love, as twisted and wrong as it seemed, would be reciprocated.

_I found love, darling_

_Love in the nick of time_

This was the second time Santana walked past the living room to see Sam playing the piano and Mercedes listening. This time, however, was different. She didn't feel the disgust she had expected. She didn't even feel the annoyance she'd grown used to feeling when Sam was near Mercedes. This time, watching her sister cry, she felt sadness. Overwhelming sadness. Touching her cheek, she found it to be damp.

Puck, having heard the music from outside, came to her side and took her hand. He squeezed gently. "You're crying." He murmured. "You never cry."

"I just realized," Santana leaned against him. "We'll be okay."

"What about Sam?"

"He understands."

Puck nodded and considered the blond who'd made both of his sisters cry. "Maybe we're not monsters after all."

* * *

><p><strong>THERE YA GO! I hope it wasn't atrocious. I may come back and add a few details later. The song Sam sang is 'Can't Make You Love Me'. I chose the Bon Iver cover of that song for inspiration. <strong>

**Thanks for the read, guys! :)**


	6. Strength

Two years overdue: Sail has returned with a brand new chapter! You can thank troubletonejones on tumblr for giving me that extra push to write this chapter. Always nice to hear when someone likes your stories.! Enjoy and forgive any and all mistakes please!

* * *

><p><strong>Strength<strong>

.

"_Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know _

_when to let go and then do it."_  
>-Ann Landers-<p>

.

.

Over time, Marshall House had become Sam's home. As he walked through the dark corridors, he could envision what it would look like should he ever own it. He would paint the walls a lighter colour. The dark made the house seem unfriendly, dangerous. It was anything but that.

Mercedes' bedroom was his favourite room of the house. With work, the balcony that overlooked the backyard gardens would be sturdy and restored. He would see to it in the upcoming days, he thought dismissively. The walls were dark here as they were everywhere else. He'd change that too.

He leaned against, the bedroom doorframe and watched the short, dark skinned woman slip into a dark blue dress. His favourite one, the one she'd been wearing when they first met. The smile that crossed his face was an appreciative one.

"I know you're there, Sam." She glanced over her shoulder, and smiled. "Zip me up, please?"

"Beautiful dress. I don't think anyone could wear it better. Well, except maybe," He pursed his lips as he pulled up the dress zipper.

"Go on then, tell me who."

"What," he corrected. "The floor. I'd say these hardwood floors would wear it exceptionally well."

Mercedes turned to face him, her eyes unreadable. For a moment, Sam thought he went to far. The last thing he wanted was for her to dismiss him. Again.

"I think you have a death wish," she said finally.

"Everyone dies, Mercy. May as well have some fun in the meantime." He trailed a finger along her cheek, which she caught just before he could capture her chin.

"I feel for you. Don't ask me what it is, because I don't know." She let go of him and stepped back. "But, Sam... we aren't compatible. You're a good person with options. It's too late for me to be anything but a slightly better version of what I already am."

For Sam, everything that had been said after her initial confession was blurred. "But if we love each other-"

"Love isn't always enough, Sam!" She snapped, anger flushing her skin. "If it was, my siblings and I wouldn't be so unhappy. You come here with your optimistic ways, but you don't realize that some things are lost causes. Some things can't be loved."

"We're happy now, Mercedes-"

"This is a moment, Sam! A moment in a lifetime. You can't make a decision based on a moment. No matter how perfect it is. Will you be content knowing that we can be happy one or three days a month? Before long the days will start to blur together and you'll feel the pressure of being hated or worse ignored by the person you claim to love."

"It doesn't have to be like that for us."

"But it is. I don't know how to give you want you want and I don't know if I'll ever know how."

With that said, she left him standing stricken in her bedroom.

**.**

**.**

Mercedes spent the rest of the day avoiding Sam. She cleaned, cooked and tended to her gardens. Anything to keep her mind of the green-eyed blond she'd come to appreciate. Puck and Santana had found her outside, hanging a load of laundry on the clothes line.

The moment she saw their faces, Mercedes knew something was wrong.

"What happened?"

Puck glanced at Santana wearily before speaking. "Seems that somebody is missing Sam." He dug a paper out of his back pocket and unfolded it before thrusting it into Mercedes' hand.

On the paper was the headline: MISSING, SAM EVANS above a flattering though quite accurate photograph of the man they had kidnapped. "Where did you get this?" she asked, all business.

"A little blonde woman was handing them out at the supermarket. Her brother has been missing for a while. She wants him back," answered Santana. "Talked our ear off about how _scared_ she was that something had happened to him and how she's willing to do _anything_ to get him back."

Santana grimaced in disgust. Public displays of emotions were something she had no tolerance for.

"We knew this would happen eventually. We're lucky we managed to keep him alive this long." Puck shrugged.

"Under no circumstances are we going to kill that man," snapped Mercedes. "Risk or no risk, we're going to send him back to where he came from."

"Are you out of your mind, Mercedes?" Santana stared at her incredulously. "That man is going to get us killed or worse arrested. You can't be serious. This is _not_ the time to start thinking like a person. Didn't I tell you to be careful?"

"I don't want him killed, Tana! He kept his side of the bargain. Now it's our turn."

Rage filled Santana and she took a threatening step forward, jabbing her finger into her sister's chest. "He is going to ruin our lives. He's already ruined yours. You've gone soft, 'Cedes."

"Stop, stop, stop!" Yelled Puck, stepping between the two. "We agreed to let Sam fix Mercedes. He's doing that. We have to be fair."

"He's gotten to you too?" scoffed Santana. "Fine. What do you suppose we do about him then?"

Mercedes looked at the house, and shrugged. "We threaten him. Bring him back home. Pretend he never existed."

**.**

**.**

Voices woke Sam from a heavy sleep. He kept his eyes shut, trying to ignore them. Santana had a habit of speaking loudly. As the voices got louder, her realized they weren't familiar.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, wincing in pain as his eyes adjusted to the light. It wasn't his room at Marshall House. It was a hospital room. He would recognize the white walls anywhere, as well as the sterile smell.

Someone entered his room and he groaned, seeing that is was his sister Stacey. There was no denying they were related. She looked exactly like he would have if he were a woman. He felt his heart sink. Part of him had hoped to see Mercedes or Puck. Hell, even Santana.

"Don't sit," said Stacey, seeing him move. "It's best if you just rest a little. You're pretty beaten up."

"Why are you here?" he managed.

She rolled her eyes at the question and adjusted the blankets on him. "My brother went missing. Where else would I be?" She smiled at him, but Sam saw that it didn't reach her eyes.

"Are you alone?"

"Ma' should be here are anytime now. Dad and Stevie are flying out tonight." Her eyes narrowed. "Should anyone else be here? Anyone I should know about?"

Before he knew it, Sam found himself telling her about everything that had happened since he'd been kidnapped. He included the details, even when he saw her eyes flash in anger. He told her everything up until the moment Mercedes told him that she couldn't give him what he wanted. He couldn't remember what happened next. Everything was a blurred in his memory. Hopefully, with time he would remember how he got from Marshall House to the hospital.

Stacey had listened to him intently, nodding to show she was paying attention. She never interrupted, but the moment he finished, she began pacing his room.

"You know, they beat you, right?" she asked. "You have a few broken ribs, a broken leg, a concussion, you're bruised in places no one should be bruised. I think the doctor mentioned a dislocated shoulder too. You've been unconscious for nearly a day. This girl doesn't love you that much if she let this happen."

"Her sister would have killed me."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm just not seeing where you're coming from. They kidnapped you. This love you have for her? It's just a really bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. It's not real."

"Stacey-"

"Look," she interrupted him, shaking her head. "I'll get the nurse to check up on you. I need to process this. Before you ask, I won't tell anyone. I just... need to think. I'm glad you're alive."

**.**

**.**

It was just past four when Mary Evans arrived at the hospital. She came bearing clothes, a bag of toiletries and a heavy dose of guilt. The mother in her blamed herself for not having realized that her son was in trouble.

Not just trouble, she thought restlessly. Kidnapped. By some gang. She shuddered and made her way to his room. To think... if Stacey wasn't nosey and annoyingly persistent, Sam might not have lived to see another day.

Once she reached his room, Mary's eyes filled at the sight of Sam laying on the bed with Stacey by his side. "Oh, God!" The moment she saw Sam, any decision to remain calm was thrown out the window. She ran to him, pulling his bruised frame into her arms.

Neither she nor Stacey missed the way his arms failed to circle her. He sat, stone faced and still, waiting for her to let him go.

When she did, Mary sat on the chair next to him and breathed in deeply. "How are you?" She shook her head and chuckled. "How silly of me, obviously you aren't well. Sam, I'm sorry."

"For what?" He asked, frowning.

She took his hand in hers and squeezed. "I should have known something was wrong when you didn't answer your phone, but Quinn told us she left and we just assumed..." She trailed off and closed her eyes. None of this was easy. "I thought you needed time to deal with the break up. I wanted to give you space. I know I can be overbearing at times, and the one time I decide to let you live your life is the time you get kidnapped and assaulted."

"It's not your fault, Mama." Stacey placed a hand over theirs. "We all thought... well, things like this aren't supposed to happen to us. They happen to other people, to other families. Not to ours."

Mary nodded, sniffling. "I'm just so happy you're alive, Sammy. So happy." She forced a smile and pushed to her feet, smoothing the wrinkles from her slacks. "I'm going to call your father and Stevie. They'll be on their way soon enough. I'm really happy you're back, Sam. I love you."

"I... Thank you." Sam said weakly.

Sadness crossed his mother's face and she looked at Stacey, unable to stop the tears that spilled from her eyes.

Stacey closed the door behind their mother and rounded on Sam, worry etched into her pretty face.

"That was your mother, Sam," said Stacey, staring at him. "You love her."

He nodded and smiled unconvincingly. "I know that."

"Do you? Because you've been staring at her like she's some stranger and not the woman who gave birth to you years ago."

"It's difficult-"

Stacey put a hand up, stopping him. "I don't want to hear it, Samuel. You've said enough. It's my turn." She took a deep breath and furrowed her brows, unsure of where to begin. It all seemed so impossible, so foreign. "You are going to get help. I'll find you a therapist. A good one."

"I don't need a shrink, Stace!" Sam laughed at the thought which only angered his Stacey.

"Jesus Christ, Samuel! If you can't see that you do need help then you're in bigger need of it than I thought. I'll find someone and we'll fix what they broke!'' She yelled, tear filling her eyes.

"Stacey-" He glanced at the door, hoping nobody could hear her ranting.

"Don't 'Stacey' me!" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand hastily. "They sent you back wrong. You aren't my brother anymore. They asked you to help them. But while you were fixing them, they were breaking you. Well, I'm not okay with this. I want my brother back. I want my Sammy, not Samuel."

Her words stirred something in Sam, but he remained silent. With surprising gentleness, she cupped his chin and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I love you. So much, Sammy, you don't even know. You were supposed to dump Quinn and meet this amazing perfect woman. You were going to have perfect babies and I know that they would have been perfect because _you_ are. They would have had your heart and your wisdom. I would have loved them because they would've been everything that you are. I would've been the proudest sister and the proudest aunt." A small sad smile graced her features. "But you fell in love with... She's not perfect, Sam. She's... she's just not perfect."

"Nobody's perfect, Stace," said Sam lightly.

"But not everybody is... imperfection."

Sam wasn't stupid. He knew what she was implying and resented it. "They aren't evil people. They didn't have a choice."

Rolling her eyes, Stacey moved away from him and began pacing the room. "Of course, they had a choice. There is always a choice! Always! They could've gone to the authorities after what happened. They could've done anything but what they actually did. They made their choice."

"And now I'm making mine."

Stacey nodded, seeing his determination. "You leave me no choice. I'm going to take the next few months off of school. I'll live with you and supervise until I'm sure you're back to your old self. I'll die before I let my brother live the rest of his life with a monster."


End file.
